They stowed their heavy packs, laden with food and water, in a thicket of bushes. Perrin didn’t know if they could survive on food or water found in the dream, but he didn’t want to have to find out. They should have enough here for a week or so, and as long as they had a gateway waiting for them, he felt comfortable—or, at least, satisfied—with the risks he was taking here.
The landscape here wasn’t coming apart in the same way as it had been near Shayol Ghul. However, if he watched a section long enough, he could catch bits of. . . well, everything being pulled up in the winds. Stalks of dead grain, fragments of tree trunks, gobs of mud and slivers of rock—all were slowly being pulled toward those gluttonous black clouds. After the way of the wolf dream, when he looked back, things that had been broken apart would often be whole again. He understood. This place was being consumed, slowly, as was the waking world. Here, it was simply easier to see.
The winds whipped at them, but weren’t so strong that he had to keep them at bay. They felt like the winds at the beginning of a storm, right before the rain and lightning. The heralds of oncoming destruction.
Gaul had pulled the shoufa over his face, and looked about suspiciously. His clothing had changed in shade to match the grasses.
“You have to be very careful here, Gaul,” Perrin said. “Your idle thoughts can become reality.”
Gaul nodded, then hesitantly unveiled his face. “I will listen and do as instructed.”
It was encouraging that Gaul’s clothing didn’t change too much as they walked through the field. “Just try to keep your mind clear,” Perrin said. “Free of thought. Act by instinct and follow my lead.”
“I will hunt like the gara” Gaul said, nodding. “My spear is yours, Perrin Aybara.”
Perrin walked through the field, worried that Gaul would accidentally send himself somewhere by thinking of it. The man barely suffered any effects of the wolf dream, however. His clothing would change a little if he was startled, his veil snapping into place without him reaching for it, but that seemed to be the extent of it.
“All right,” Perrin said. “I’m going to take us to the Black Tower. We hunt a dangerous prey, a man named Slayer. You remember Lord Luc?”
“The lopinginny?” Gaul said.
Perrin frowned.
“It is a type of bird,” Gaul said. “From the Three-fold Land. I did not see this man often, but he seemed to be the type who talked big, but was inwardly a coward.”
“Well, that was a front,” Perrin said. “And either way, he is a very different person in the dream—here, he is a predator named Slayer who hunts wolves and men. He’s powerful. If he decides to kill you, he can appear behind you in an eyeblink and imagine you captured by vines and unable to move. You’ll be trapped as he slits your throat.”
Gaul laughed.
“That’s funny?” Perrin asked.
“You act as if it is something new,” Gaul explained. “Yet in the first dream, wherever I go, I am surrounded by women and men who could tie me in air with a thought and kill me at any time. I am accustomed to being powerless around some, Perrin Aybara. It is the way of the world in all things.”
“Still,” Perrin said sternly, “if we find Slayer—he’s a square-faced fellow, with eyes that don’t seem totally alive, and he dresses in dark leather—I want you to stay away from him. Let me fight him.”
“But—”
“You said you’d obey, Gaul,” Perrin said. “This is important. He took Hopper; I won’t have him taking you as well. You don’t fight Slayer.”
“Very well,” Gaul said. “I give my oath on it. I will not dance the spears with this man unless you order it.”
Perrin sighed, imagining Gaul standing with his spears put away, letting Slayer kill him because of this oath. Light, but Aiel could be prickly. “You can fight him if he attacks you,” Perrin said, “but only as a means of escape. Don’t hunt him, and if I’m fighting him, stay out of the way. Understand?” Gaul nodded. Perrin put a hand on the Aiel’s shoulder, then shifted them in the direction of the Black Tower. Perrin had never been there before, so he had to guess and try to find it. The first shift was off, taking them to a section of Andor where grass-covered hills seemed to dance in the churning winds. Perrin would have preferred to just leap from hilltop to hilltop, but he didn’t think Gaul was ready for that. He used shifting instead.
After four or five tries, Perrin took them to a place where he spotted a translucent, faintly purple dome rising in the distance.
“What is it?” Gaul asked.
“Our goal,” Perrin said. “That is the thing keeping Grady and Neald from creating gateways to the Black Tower.”
“Just as we were afflicted in Ghealdan.”
“Yes.” Seeing that dome brought back memories, vivid ones, of wolves dying. Perrin suppressed them. Memories like that could lead to idle thoughts, here. He allowed himself a burning anger deep within, like the warmth of his hammer, but that was all.
“Let’s go,” Perrin said, shifting them down in front of the dome. It looked like glass. “Pull me free if I collapse,” he said to Gaul, then stepped into the barrier.
It felt as if he’d hit something incredibly cold. It sucked away his strength.
He stumbled, but kept his mind on his goal. Slayer. Killer of wolves. Hopper’s murderer.
Perrin straightened as his strength returned. This was easier than it had been last time; being in the wolf dream in the flesh did make him stronger. He didn’t have to worry about pulling himself into the dream too strongly, and leaving his body to die in the real world.
He moved slowly through the barrier, as if through water, and stepped out onto the other side. Behind, Gaul reached out with a curious expression on his face, then tapped the dome wall with his index finger.
Gaul immediately dropped to the ground, going limp like a doll. His spears and arrows tumbled away from his body, and he lay perfectly still, his chest not rising. Perrin reached through—his arm slow—and seized Gaul by the leg to pull him through.
Once on the other side, Gaul gasped, then rolled over, groaning. He sat up, holding his head. Perrin quietly fetched the man’s arrows and spears for him.
“This is going to be a good experience for building our Gaul said. He stood up and rubbed his arm where he’d hit the ground. “The Wise Ones call coming to this place as we do evil? It seems to me they would enjoy bringing men here to teach them.”
Perrin eyed Gaul. He hadn’t realized that the man had heard him speaking to Edarra of the wolf dream. “What did I do to deserve your loyalty, Gaul?” Perrin said, mostly to himself.
Gaul laughed. “It is not anything you did.”
“What do you mean? I cut you down from that cage. That’s why you follow me.”
“That’s why I began following you,” Gaul said. “It is not why I remained. Come, is there not a danger that we hunt?”
Perrin nodded, and Gaul veiled his face. Together, they walked beneath the dome, approaching the structure within. It was a goodly distance from the edge of one of these domes to the center, but Perrin didn’t want to jump and be surprised, so they continued on foot, crossing a landscape of open grasslands patched with groves of trees.
They walked for about an hour before they spotted the walls. Tall and imposing, they looked like those around a large city. Perrin and Gaul walked up to them, Gaul scouting with great care, as if he expected to be fired upon at any moment. However, in the wolf dream, these walls wouldn’t be guarded. If Slayer were in here, he would lurk at the heart of the dome, at the center. And he’d probably have laid a trap.
Perrin rested his hand on Gaul’s shoulder and brought them to the top of the wall in an instant. Gaul prowled to one side, crouching low and peeking into one of the covered guard posts.
Perrin went to the inner edge of the wall, looking in. The Black Tower wasn’t as imposing as the outside implied: a distant village of huts and small houses, and beyond that a large building project.
�
�They’re arrogant, wouldn’t you say?” a feminine voice asked.
Perrin jumped, spinning, summoning his hammer to his hands and readying a brick wall around himself for protection. A short young woman with silver hair stood next to him, standing straight as if to try to appear taller than she was. She wore white clothing, tied at the waist with a silver belt. He didn’t recognize the face, but he did know her scent.
“Moonhunter,” Perrin said, almost a growl. “Lanfear.”
“Fm not allowed to use that name any longer,” she said, tapping one finger on the wall. “He’s so strict with names.”
Perrin backed away, glancing from side to side. Was she working with Slayer? Gaul appeared out of the guard post and froze, seeing her. Perrin held out a hand to stop him. Could he jump to Gaul and be away before she attacked?
“Moonhunter?” Lanfear asked. “Is that what the wolves call me? That’s not right, not at all. I don’t hunt the moon. The moon is mine already.” She leaned down, resting her arms on the chest-high battlement.
“What do you want?” Perrin demanded.
“Vengeance,” she whispered. Then she looked at him. “The same as you, Perrin.”
“I’m to believe you want Slayer dead too?”
“Slayer? That orphan errand boy of Moridin’s? He doesn’t interest me. My vengeance will be against another.”
“Who?”
“The one who caused my imprisonment,” she said softly, passionately. Suddenly, she looked toward the skies. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she vanished.
Perrin passed his hammer from one hand to the other as Gaul crept forward, trying to watch all directions at once. “What was that?” he whispered. “Aes Sedai?”
“Worse,” Perrin said with a grimace. “Do the Aiel have a name for Lanfear?”
Gaul drew in a sharp breath.
“I don’t know what she wants,” Perrin said. “She’s never made any sense to me. With any luck, we merely crossed paths, and she will go on with what she was about.”
He didn’t believe that, not after what the wolves had told him earlier. Moonhunter wanted him. Light, as if I didn’t have enough trouble.
He shifted them down to the bottom of the wall, and they continued.
Toveine knelt beside Logain. Androl was forced to watch as she caressed his chin, his wearied eyes open and watching her with horror.
“It’s all right,” she said sweetly. “You can stop resisting. Relax, Logain. Give in.”
She had been Turned easily. Apparently, linked with thirteen Halfmen, it was easier for male channelers to Turn female channelers, and vice versa. That was why they were having so much trouble with Logain.
“Take him,” Toveine said, pointing at Logain. “Let’s see this done, once and for all. He deserves the peace of the Great Lord’s bounty.”
Taim’s minions dragged Logain away. Androl watched with despair. Taim obviously considered Logain a prize. Turn him, and the rest of the Black Tower would go easily. Many of the boys up above would come willingly to their fate if Logain ordered them to it.
How can he keep fighting? Androl thought. Stately Emarin had been reduced to a whimpering wreck after only two sessions, though he hadn’t yet been Turned. Logain had suffered nearly a dozen, and still he resisted.
That would change, for Taim now had women. Soon after Toveine’s Turning, others had arrived, sisters of the Black Ajah led by a horridly ugly woman who spoke with authority. The other Reds who had come with Pevara had joined them.
Drowsy concern flowed through Pevara’s bond to Androl. She was awake, but full of that drink that stopped her from channeling. Androl's own mind felt relatively clear. How long had it been since they’d forced him to drink the dregs out of the cup they’d first given to Emarin?
Logain . . . will not last much longer. Pevara’s sending was laced with fatigue and growing resignation. What are . . . She cut off, thoughts growing muddled. Burn me! What are we going to do?
Logain screamed in pain. He hadn’t done that before. It seemed a very bad sign. By the doorway, Evin stood and watched. He looked over his shoulder suddenly, jumping at something.
Light, Androl thought. Could it be . . . his madness, caused by the taint? Is it still there?
Androl noticed for the first time that he was shielded, which they never did to captives unless letting their dose of forkroot wane so they could be Turned.
That sent a spike of panic through him. Were they coming for him next?
Androl? Pevara sent. I have an idea.
What?
Androl started coughing through his gag. Evin jumped, then came over, bringing out his water flask and pouring water on the gag. Abors—one of Taim’s flunkies—lounged against the wall. He was holding the shield. He glanced at Androl, but something at the other side of the room drew his attention.
Androl coughed worse, so Evin untied the gag and rolled him to the side, letting him spit out the water.
“Quiet now,” Evin said, glancing back at Abors, who was too far away to hear. “Don’t make them angry at you, Androl.”
The Turning of a man to the Shadow was not perfect. While it changed their allegiance, it did not change everything about them. The thing in Evin’s head had his memories, his personality, and—the Light send—his failings.
“Have you convinced them?” Androl whispered. “Not to kill me?”
“I have!” Evin said, leaning low, eyes frenzied. “They keep saying you’re useless, since you can’t channel very well, but none of them like making gateways to shuffle people about. I told them you’d do it for them. You will, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Androl said. “It’s better than dying.”
Evin nodded. “They stopped your dose of forkroot. They’ll take you next, after Logain. M’Hael was finally sent new women from the Great Lord, women who aren’t tired from channeling all the time. Them and Toveine and the Reds mean it should go quickly now. M’Hael should have Logain by the end of the day.”
“I’ll serve them,” Androl said. “I’ll swear to the Great Lord.”
“That’s good, Androl,” Evin said. “But we can’t let you go until you’ve been Turned. M’Hael won’t accept just an oath. It will be all right. I told them that you’d Turn easily. You will, won’t you? Not resisting?”
“I won’t resist.”
“Thank the Great Lord,” Evin said, relaxing.
Oh, Evin. You never were terribly bright.
“Evin,” Androl said softly, “you need to watch out for Abors. You know that, right?”
“I’m one of them now, Androl,” Evin said. “I don’t have to worry about them.”
“That’s good,” Androl whispered. “What I heard him say about you must have been nothing.”
Evin fidgeted. That look in his eyes ... it was fright. The taint had been cleansed. Jonneth, Emarin and the other new Asha’man would never have to suffer the madness.
It manifested differently in different Asha’man, and at different rates. However, the fear was the most common. It came in waves; it had been consuming Evin when the cleansing happened. Androl had seen Asha’man need to be put down as the taint overwhelmed them. He knew that look in Evin’s eyes well. Though the lad had been Turned, he still carried the madness with him. He would do so forever.
“What did he say?” Evin said.
“He didn’t like it that you had been Turned,” Androl said. “He thinks you’ll take his place.”
“Oh.”
“Evin ... he might be planning to kill you. Take care.”
Evin stood up. “Thank you, Androl.”
He walked away, leaving Androl ungagged.
That. . . can’t possibly work, Pevara sent drowsily.
She hadn’t lived among them long enough. She hadn’t seen what the madness could do, and didn’t know to recognize it in the eyes of the Asha’man. Normally, when one of them became like this, they would take him and confine him until he rode it out. If that didn’t work, Taim added somethin
g to their wine, and they didn’t wake up.
If they weren’t stopped, they would descend to destruction. They would kill those closest to them, lashing out first at people they should have loved.
Androl knew that madness. He knew it was inside of him, too. That is a mistake, Taim, he thought. You use our own friends against us, but we know them better than you do.
Evin struck at Abors. It came in a burst of the One Power. A second later, Androl’s shield dropped.
Androl embraced the Source. He was not very strong, but he had enough Power to burn away a few ropes. He rolled free of his bindings, hands bloodied, and took stock of the room. He hadn’t been able to see it before, not entirely.
The room was bigger than he’d assumed, the size of a small throne room. A wide circular dais dominated the far end, topped by a double ring of Myrddraal and women. He shivered as he saw the Fades. Light, but that eyeless gaze was awful.
Taim’s exhausted men stood by the far wall, the Asha’man who had failed to Turn Logain. He sat on the dais, slouching and tied to a chair in the center of the double ring. Like a throne. Logain’s head rolled to the side, his eyes closed. He appeared to be whispering something.
Taim had spun, furious, toward Evin, who fought with Mishraile beside Abors’ smoking corpse. Evin and Mishraile each held the One Power, wrestling on the floor, a knife in Evin’s hands.
Androl scrambled toward Emarin, then nearly fell on his face as his legs gave out. Light! He was weak, but he did manage to burn away Emarin’s bonds, then Pevara’s. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Emarin nodded in gratitude.
“Can you weave?” Androl whispered. Taim’s attention was on Evin’s fight.
Emarin shook his head. “The drink they gave us . . .”
Androl clung to the One Power. Shadows began to lengthen around him.
No! he thought. No, not now!
A gateway. He needed a gateway! Androl sucked in the One Power, forming the weave for Traveling. And yet, as before, he hit some kind of barrier—like a wall, preventing him from opening the gateway. Frustrated, he tried to make one to a closer destination. Perhaps distance mattered. Could he make a gateway to Canler’s store above them?
A Memory of Light Page 35
